Black Rose in the Abyss Chapter 11

President Chow's pupils constricted. He obviously recognized him. "Dante? Why aren't you enjoying your life as a young master in Chicago? Why run back to New York to steal my project!"

Dante walked in slowly, his steps steady. His gaze didn't even linger on the trembling Mia.

"I can't be bothered with other things," his eyes were indifferent. "But since you dared to swallow the charity funds for homeless children, I have to care."

He paused, a ripple almost invisible passing through his eyes.

"I promised someone that I would give the children from the slums a place to shelter from the wind and rain."

He hadn't expected that after just two years away, these demons would dare to extend their claws to the places they absolutely shouldn't touch.

Chow seemed to grasp onto leverage and sneered, "Lorenzo has strictly forbidden you from stepping foot in New York. If you came here for a bit of charity money, he won't let you off!"

The corner of Dante's mouth hooked into a cold arc. "That's right. He's very difficult to deal with. I've been guarding against him too."

The next second, his gaze turned sharp.

"But for this matter, even knowing he will be furious—"

"For Bianca, I would definitely do it."

Bang—!

A gunshot rang out. A red dot appeared on President Chow's forehead. His eyes widened as he fell straight back.

Mia flinched as warm blood splattered on her cheek. She turned her head violently, trembling all over.

Expressionless, Dante holstered his gun. He picked up the nearly paralyzed Mia in his arms and coldly ordered his subordinates behind him, "Clean this up."

Holding Mia, he boarded the helicopter waiting on the hotel rooftop.

Inside the cabin, Mia was still in shock. She grabbed his sleeve. "Dante, I'll explain to Uncle. You did it for me..."

"No need." Dante pulled his hand back. "I didn't do it for you."

He turned to look out, his voice falling behind him, clear and cruel. "It was for Bianca."

Mia's face instantly turned as pale as paper.

Unwilling to accept this, she spoke up. "You know I like you. Why must you be so cold to me?"

Dante opened his eyes.

"Why?" He repeated, his tone flat, yet it made Mia shudder. "When you lied to Bianca, saying I named the baby in your belly 'Hope', I also wanted to ask why."

"When you had someone tamper with Bianca's race car, I also wanted to ask why."

"When you conspired with Rocco to stage that kidnapping and forced her off the cliff, I also wanted to ask why."

With every sentence he spoke, Mia's face grew paler.

"But is there any point in asking?" Dante turned his head to look at the pitch-black night outside the window.

"Taking you today was just convenient. Lorenzo has a partnership with Senator Sterling. Just be the obedient eldest daughter of the Sterling family. Don't use those underhanded methods to throw yourself into danger again, trying to get someone's attention."

Stung by the disdain in his words, Mia blurted out:

"Bianca has been dead for two years! Why can't you look at me!"

The air suddenly solidified.

Dante turned his head. The low pressure radiating from him instantly silenced Mia. She shrank back in fear.

She knew the current Dante was no longer the man from two years ago who held a shred of pity for her.

He knew everything.

Dante ignored her and walked to the other side of the cabin.

He took out his phone. The screen lit up. The background was the only photo recovered of him and Bianca together.

It looked like it was taken on a summer night, a bit blurry.

In the noisy Times Square night market, he had his arm around Bianca's shoulder. Bianca held an ice cream, turning her head slightly to smile at him. The light in her eyes was a brightness he hadn't seen in many years since.

His smile back then carried a boyish arrogance. Looking down at her, it was as if she was the only person left in the world.

He remembered that day. She drank for him for the first time, leaned on his shoulder in a drunken haze, and said, "Dante, we're going to have our own home later. A really big one."

His fingertip gently brushed across Bianca's smiling face on the screen. Violent pain spread from his heart to his limbs.

Dante closed his eyes, suppressing the surging bitterness and pain deep into his heart.

Bianca, I miss you so much.

Meanwhile, at an abandoned pier in Queens.

Two groups of people stood in a clear standoff. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder.

"Roxy, we can't hold on!"

A young subordinate with a bruised face gasped for air, growling low to Roxy, who was blocking the front.

Roxy had a bruise at the corner of her mouth. Her hand holding the baseball bat trembled slightly from exhaustion.

But her eyes remained fierce, staring dead at the man in the floral shirt opposite her—Mad Dog Johnny, the leader of the new force occupying the West Side.

"We have to hold on even if we can't!" Roxy spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

"This pier is what Bianca fought with her life to snatch! It's the last memento she left us! If we lose it, we'll become the biggest fucking joke in New York!"

Johnny laughed arrogantly. "Roxy, stop struggling! Bianca has been dead for two years! Dante ran away too!"

"New York has changed a long time ago! If you're smart, hand over this pier obediently, and I might leave you a way to live!"

His subordinates behind him jeered along, shouting obscenities.

"Bullshit!" Roxy cursed angrily. She swung the baseball bat, ready to rush up for a last stand, but was held back tightly by the people around her.

"Roxy! Don't go! There are too many of them!"

Seeing morale dropping, a wave of sorrow rose in Roxy's heart.

Bianca, I'm sorry. I can't even protect the last bit of your turf.

Just then, a figure stepped silently out of the shadows from the rear. Passing a brother gasping against a shipping container, the figure snatched the baseball cap off his head and jammed it on, pulling the brim low.

"Hey! You..." The subordinate was stunned.

But the person had already shot out like a ghost. The speed was incredibly fast, aiming straight for Johnny in the center of the crowd!

"Who is that?!"

"Stop him!"

Johnny's men reacted, swinging knives to block.

The figure in the cap moved with agility. Punching, disarming—everything was done in one breath, without a single wasted movement. It was shockingly ruthless and precise!

Every move was inevitably accompanied by a scream and an opponent falling.

The figure forcefully carved a bloody path through the dense crowd!

Roxy and all the brothers stared dumbfounded.

Who is this?

This skill is terrifying!

In the blink of an eye, the person rushed in front of Johnny.

Shocked and angry, Johnny swung his machete down hard!

The figure didn't dodge. Instead, they precisely grabbed the wrist holding the knife and twisted hard!

Crack! The sound of bone fracturing was clearly audible.

"Ah—!" Johnny screamed, the machete dropping to the ground.

The person's other hand formed a fist and smashed heavily into Johnny's face!

Bang!

Johnny's nose collapsed, his face blooming with blood. He fell straight back without even a grunt, passed out cold.

The entire scene fell into a dead silence.

Everyone was shaken by this sudden reversal and the ruthless skill.

The person stood there, breathing slightly heavy. With a hand stained with blood specks, they casually pushed up the brim of the hat.

The dim light on the pier outlined a clear jawline and a pair of eyes that were both familiar and strange.

Roxy's pupils constricted violently. Her breathing stopped instantly. The baseball bat in her hand clattered to the ground.

She stared dead at that face. "...Bianca?" Her voice trembled, almost squeezed out of her throat.

Bianca looked at her. Her face had some dust and blood spots on it, but she slowly curled her lips into a very faint smile at Roxy.

"Roxy," she spoke, her voice raspy from the long separation. "I'm back."

That sentence exploded in everyone's hearts like thunder.